Uncomfortably Close
by Iyrsiiea
Summary: Things are not looking good for Danny. He doen't get any sleep, never has time for homework, and is getting beaten up on an hourly basis. But things get even harder when his enemies and loved ones alike get uncomfortably close to his secret...
1. Close Call

**Chapter One: Close Call**

**Danny**

On a dark street in the northern part of Amity Park, a 14-year-old teen in a black-and-white hazmat suit with white hair, florescent green eyes, and a slight tan was flying through the air, the infamous _**DP**_ logo on his suit indentifying him as Danny Phantom. Ectoplasmic blasts filled the space around him, below him, above him, and at all sides except forward. The ecto-blasts came from two figures on the ground below him, one large and in an orange jumpsuit, the other petite and with a bluish suit. He didn't even try to fight back against his pursuers who happened to be Jack and Maddie Fenton, his parents.

'_I have the most rotten luck in both this world AND the Ghost Zone!'_ Danny mentally complained. He was beyond tired having gotten zero sleep the night before and forty-five minutes accumulatively in-class. Bruised and beaten up from fights with Skulker, Technus, The Box Ghost, Desiree, both Skulker and Box Ghost _again_, and the Lunch Lady within 12 hours, he hadn't gotten the chance for sleep. But just when the fat, meat-obsessed ghost-lady was in the Thermos and Danny thought he could get some sleep, his own parents showed up and started shooting at him!

"You can run but you can't hide ghost-boy! There is nowhere you will be safe from Jack Fenton's wrath!" yelled Jack.

Maddie proclaimed, "I'm gonna take great pleasure in dissecting you in the lab once we capture you, ghost!"

_And Jazz wonders why I haven't told them yet… _Danny thought grimly. At any other time, Danny would have come up with a witty retort. As it was, he continued to dodge and attempted to speed up. But the stress and lack of sleep caught up with him, and Danny's eyes began to close only to open up wide when one of the many badly-aimed ecto-blasts that were being fired at him hit the mark, specifically Danny's leg.

A pained gasp and a sudden drop in altitude informed his attackers that they'd hit him, and Danny's father gave a celebratory whoop. "That's right, no ghost gets away from _me_!"

Feeling extra snarky, perhaps from a searing pain in his left leg, Danny quipped, "Except every single ghost in Amity Park!"

Ignoring his comment, the ghost-hunting pair started to close in. Danny panicked. His parents were getting too close for comfort and he almost too tired to fight back. He couldn't afford to be captured. They might run a bunch of painful experiments on him, or maybe skip right to the chase and 'rip him apart molecule by molecule'. They might find out his secret. _I can't let that happen._ Left with no real option, Danny fired an ecto-blast from his finger, hoping beyond hope that his aim was still good. And it was. The ecto-gun in Jack Fenton's hand fried. Then Danny took aim and fired again, disabling Maddie's gun.

The two ghost hunters glared poisonous, flaming daggers at Danny. He was very glad that looks couldn't kill, because if they could he'd be completely dead instead of his current half-dead state. With a sheepish grin, he said, "Sorry!" Then he turned painfully around and started flying away.

"Come back here, coward!"

"You won't get away!"

His parent's voices started to fade away. In fact, everything started to fade away. His vision blurred, his eyes closed, and there was a sudden feeling of gravity. He would have fallen asleep right there had he not collided painfully with the hard cement ground. Feet came rushing towards him, and Danny looked up in panic. _Oh no…_

He got up quickly and backed away.

His parent had him. He had his back up against a wall, just barely awake enough from the adrenaline to not change back to Danny Fenton, but not enough to fly or turn intangible. He couldn't run on his injured leg and he doubted he could go any actual amount of distance if he could. There was no sewer access, no nearby alleyways, not even a gutter he could slide his thin frame into. There was no escape and he was all alone…

It was one of his worst nightmares turned reality.

After a few moments of silent communication between his parents, his father pulled out the Thermos.

_Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap-_

Click Whoosh

… _I am so screwed._

**Maddie**

_Yes! We finally got you, you emotionless glob of ectoplasm! _Maddie thought happily as they rushed to where the Phantom-boy had fallen. His slightly glowing form was collapsed on the pavement, his snow-white hair messy and various little wounds oozing a green-red substance. _Green-red? Well we'll find out what that's about when we get him back to the lab._ Said ghost's head snapped up to see her and Jack coming towards him, and she thought she saw fear in there. _Which is complete nonsense, _she thought_, Ghosts can't feel fear. He's just a good actor, all ghosts are._

When they finally reached him the ghost-kid scrambled to his feet, green eyes wide. Their fight had led them to the end of the street. Phantom was trapped, wounded, apparently tired if that was possible, assuming from the dark circles under his eyes that were not there usually, and was all theirs for the taking. All they had to do was make the move.

Which Maddie would have very well done had she not suddenly been hit with a wave of guilt. _Where did this come from? Guilt? For an emotionless ghost?_

Some voice in her head, her conscious she assumed, whispered, 'Does he really look that emotionless to you?'

Scrutinizing the ghost's face, she found he _didn't_. Those green eyes of his were bigger than dinner plates; his hands were trembling, heck _all _of him was trembling. He looked left and right for a way out. He even tried to faze through the wall, but he was too weak. Left with no way to escape, the ghost simply pressed himself against the wall and stared, wide-eyed, at her and her husband. She suddenly noticed how much the ghost looked like Danny, because she recognized the behavior. Phantom, the infamous ghost-kid, was _scared_.

_What's he scared of?_

'What are all sentient things scared of?'

_Dying? He's already dead!_

'He's afraid for his existence, afraid of being destroyed. Even if you don't rip him apart what are you going to do, run painful tests on him? Wouldn't you be afraid of that?'

After a moment of thought, she mentally cursed. _Stupid conscious for being right. _

_Stupid guilt._

_Stupid Phantom for looking just like my son._

Maddie looked at her husband and he looked right back. He was having the same problem. Being husband and wife who worked together, they had perfected the art of speaking with their eyes.

_We can't do this._

_I know._

_We have to let him go, don't we?_

_Yes._

_We're probably gonna regret it later._

_I know._

_Suck-n-release? At least to see if the Thermos works?_

She paused. _Fine._

Jack whipped out the Fenton Thermos.

If it was possible the ghost-boy, who had watched silently throughout the whole 'conversation', pressed himself even further into the wall and flinched at the sight of the device pointed at him. With the click of the button, a blue-white beam came out of the Thermos and Phantom was sucked up.

Sighing, Jack put the Thermos housing the ghost-kid in a specialized pouch on his belt. Looking at each other, we saw our own emotions reflected in the other's eyes; confused and uncertain.

Jack was the first to speak. "Where're we gonna put him? I don't think he lives in the Ghost Zone, but he doesn't seem to haunt anywhere in particular…"

She wearily shook her head. "I don't know dear. We'll figure it out. Besides, it's not like he's going anywhere."


	2. Close Conversation

**Chapter Two: Close Conversation**

**Danny**

After a few moments (or possibly hours, he couldn't tell), Danny decided that the only thing that sucked more than being in the Thermos was being in the Thermos and awaiting your imminent dissection. He even preferred the Fenton Weasel over this! In there, at least you still retain your shape. Here, you didn't really 'exist'. You became just a bunch of destabilized molecules. And surprisingly, this state wasn't very comfortable.

Danny purposely let his mind wander, not wanting to really think about what was awaiting him, but that didn't help much.

_I wonder if they'll sedate me before they rip me apart…_

'_I'm gonna take great pleasure in dissecting you in the lab once we capture you, ghost!'_

_Yeah, something tells me they won't. What'll they do if I turn human on the table?_

After a few more 'moments-hours', Danny narrowed it down to three possibilities:

_A: Stop right away and go all super mushy parental on me._

_B: Start interrogating me._

_C: Continue on._

_I don't think they'll do C but I'm not certain about A, which is almost as bad. _He mentally shivered at the thought. _Yeah, B is the best-case scenario. _He honestly didn't want to have his secret come out, but he'd take exposed over dead any day.

_Hmm… I wonder if Jazz-_

Click. Whoosh.

"Ummph!"

He found himself face-first on the carpeted floor of a living room. Specifically, the _Fenton's_ living room.

He was home.

Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed him roughly, while trying to avoid his various bruises. The hands pulled his back so he could be handcuffed, lifted him up off the floor and placed him on the couch.

_Well… this is not what I expected._

He was sitting on the couch in his living room, with his parents sitting across from him in chairs from the kitchen table. The two ghost hunters seemed somber, even his dad. Both had their ecto-guns nearby but they weren't in their hands or aimed at him, which he took as a good thing.

_What in the hell is going on? Interrogation, maybe?_

Everything was silent. Danny didn't dare meet his parent's eyes. Then his dad spoke, "Those cuffs are designed specially for ghosts. You won't be able to faze through them."

Danny didn't say anything, more out of surprise than reluctance.

His dad sighed. "Look, Ghost-kid, Phantom, whatever your name is, we're not going to hurt you. We just want some answers."

Danny looked up at this, and arched an eyebrow, regaining his sense of sarcasm. "So, you're saying you chased me all over Amity Park, shooting at me the whole way with no apparent regard for my well-being, and you just want answers? Did I miss something while I was in the Thermos?" _Who are these people and what have they done with my parents? _The two of them looked quite annoyed.

Mom said "Look, just tell us where you live. Or, rather, where do you haunt?"

Danny just stared, dumbstruck. _Ok, I was defiantly not expecting THAT. Where did this come from?_ "Umm… excuse me, _what_?"

**Jack**

_Gah, can't he tell this is hard enough as it is?! _

The Ghost-kid was sitting in their living room, on their couch, handcuffed and at their mercy.

_So why can he still get on my nerves?!_

Said white-haired nuisance was looking at the both of them skeptically, one weirdly black eyebrow raised. His neon green eyes were slightly dulled from suppressed exhaustion, dark circles evident under them, and his mouth was set in a frown. They knew they were going to have to release him. They wouldn't be able to live with themselves if they had gone through with what they had wanted after seeing Phantom in such a pitiful state, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. And apparently it didn't disable the Ghost-kid's ability to annoy the hell out of him.

Maddie, who was just as annoyed as he was, cut to the chase. "Look, just tell us where you live. Or, rather, where do you haunt?"

_Well, that's a bit better. _His face went from trying to be purposefully annoying to just plain surprised.

"Umm… excuse me, _what_?" It was obvious he hadn't been expecting this.

"Where. Do. You. Haunt?" he pronounced clearly.

Phantom still looked baffled. "Well, I-I don't actually… know. I don't live in the Ghost Zone."

The ghost-boy looked down and Jack heard him mutter something under his breath. Wanting every last scrap of data they could get, he asked, "What did you say?"

"I'm not welcome there."

Now it was Maddie's turn to crack an eyebrow. "Why?"

Phantom looked back up at Maddie. "I'm different. That's all."

The tone in his voice made it clear he wasn't willing to elaborate. However, Jack, who can be safely described as determined and subtle as a dump truck rolling downhill, didn't take the hint. "Different how?"

The green eyes moved from Maddie to Jack. "I just am." Quite suddenly, he yawned. _Yawned? Is that… possible? _"Look, just do what you're gonna do, and quick 'cause I'm about to fall asleep right here."

He looked to Maddie. _Well, what are we going to do now? If he's telling the truth, then we can't release him into the Ghost Zone._

_Well, we could just release him here and tell him to get out._

_I guess…_

_It's settled then._

Maddie picked up her ecto-gun in her left hand and sat up. The ghost watched her as she walked over to the couch. "Get up and turn around." He hesitated only for a second before complying. Maddie unlocked his cuffs.

Looking at his newly freed wrists, he turned around to stare at her confusedly. He tried to say something, but only unintelligible noise came out. I stood up to stand beside Maddie.

"I-I'm not s-sure I'm following h-here…" he was stuttering. _Funny. The ever quick-witted 'Danny Phantom', was stuttering. _

Jack growled. "What does it look like? We're letting you go."

For a moment, he was silent as the words sunk in. His voice was slightly high-pitched from disbelief as he asked, "Are you serious?"

Maddie nodded.

Then the Ghost-boy's face broke into the largest smile Jack had ever seen. "Thanks! I would hug you but," he glanced down at the ecto-guns we still held, "yeah." He turned to leave, and then paused, still grinning like the world's biggest idiot. "Oh, and I so owe you guys a favor sometime!"

"We'll hold you to that."

"I know!" He turned and tried to faze through the wall. Keyword, 'tried'. Maddie pointed him to the front door, and with a sheepish continuation of his grin, he bolted.

With their guest gone, Maddie and Jack sank to the floor. "Well," Maddie started conversationally, "this turned out to be a busy night."

"And we didn't even get to catch a ghost!" he pouted.

"Yes, but we _did_ learn some interesting things," Maddie pointed out," One: Phantom's different from other ghosts. Two: He's not welcome in the ghost zone. And Three: Apparently he can get tired. Also, now he owes us a favor."

Jack still felt like pouting. "But we _let him go_!"

"Do you think you could have lived with the guilt?"

Jack didn't answer.

"Anyways, I need to sleep. Coming?"

"Fine."

It didn't occur to either that they didn't check up on Jazz or Danny until the next morning.

**Danny **

He couldn't speak. It was unbelievable. Inconceivable. And yet here they were. Letting him go. "Are you serious?" His voice was embarrassedly high, but he didn't even notice.

His mom had nodded.

He was free. All he could think to do was grin stupidly. _I'm free…_

"Thanks! I would hug you but," he looked down at the ecto-guns in his parents' hands. "yeah. Oh, and I so owe you guys a favor sometime!" _I hope I don't regret that later. _

His mother simply said, "We'll hold you to that."

Still grinning like a moron, he just blurted, "I know!" Turning around, he attempted to faze through the living room wall which just earned him a slight bump on the head. His mom pointed him to the front door, which he exited happily. Walking to the backside of the house to the storm drain, he clambered up despite his shrieking muscles and onto the roof where he could slide into his bedroom window quietly.

All the adrenaline and sheer determination that had kept him awake the whole time suddenly deserted him, and he was out just as gravity began pulling him down onto his bed. The last thing he remembered was a pair of silver rings at his waist…


	3. Closely Inprobable

**Chapter Three: Closely Improbable**

**Danny**

A fourteen-year-old boy with black hair and closed, ice-blue eyes thrashed about on his bed, twitching and mumbling. One of his pant legs rode up and so did his red and white shirt, revealing scars both fresh and old alike. He was even still wearing his beaten-up sneakers, which had scorch marks furiously rubbed out with just about every cleaning substance in the Fenton household. The thrashing and mumbling increased, until they became complete words:

"NO. I won't. I WON'T. I won't let it happen! You're not me!"

Suddenly, Danny Fenton sat up on his bed and shrieked.

He had known it would happen, anticipated it, but no one can really prevent themselves from waking up screaming. Everything was still so vivid, even months afterwards.

_The blood, bodies everywhere, rubble. Smell of smoke._

"_Don't you get it? I'm still here, I still exist! That means you still turn into me!"_

_Watching, entirely helpless, as everything he knew and cared about blew up._

It was going to haunt him for the rest of his life, he knew. But it didn't make waking up any easier.

_Calm down, Danny. It's over, you're safe, and he's still locked up in the Thermos. Everything is fine. Everything will stay fine, as long as you calm down and get a hold of yourself._

Danny's previously erratic breathing evened, and his heart rate slowed just in time to speed up when his bedroom door opened. His mother's head popped in, teal eyes concerned. "The nightmare again?" By the softness in her voice, he knew he must look like a wreck, hair ruffled and sticking out, clothes askew, knees pulled up to his chest.

Danny nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Wanna talk abut it?"

His head shook vigorously.

"Ok then." She looked at his clock. "Well, it's about an hour until the bus gets here, you might as well get up and start getting ready." She turned to leave, and then glanced back. "Oh, and why did you go to bed in your clothes, honey?"

Danny looked down at his body, which was indeed clothed in his normal day attire, and lied quickly: "I must've fallen asleep doing my homework."

She swallowed it easier than usual. _Probably still thinking about last night. _She just nodded and left.

Sighing deeply, Danny swung his legs over to sit at his bed's edge and removed his shirt to assess the damage. Some of the nastier bruises were still there, but most had faded along with almost all of the scrapes and cuts. He set his left leg down and experimentally placed a bit of weight on it. He winced. It was still a bit sore and stiff, but far less so than it had been. It seemed that almost all of his wounds had been lessened or healed completely overnight with the exception of a deep cut on his shoulder made by one of Skulker's newer weapons. It had completely resisted his accelerated healing rate. It was even still seeping a disturbing amount of his red-green blood. _Wonderful. A new reason to avoid Skulker. _

Pulling his first-aid kit from under the bed, he disinfected the gash and dressed it with some gauze. Then he examined his clothes with dismay. His mom must have been very distracted to have not noticed the bloodstains. He shoved it and his newly removed pants under the bed with the first-aid, grabbed a towel, and headed off to the shower.

Danny quite liked showers, despite the stereotype that males in general feared soap. However, he didn't appreciate them for the chance to get clean even though it was a necessity with all the wounds he got daily. Rather, he enjoyed the fact that with the exception of the occasional ghost, who dearly regretted it afterwards, he was never interrupted and had some definite alone-time to think.

_Mom seems really distracted today. Normally she's so observant that I'd swear she already knew I'm Phantom and just acted clueless for her entertainment, but today she swallowed a lie head-first and ignored the fact I was wearing bloodstained clothes. _

_Well, I did give her some stuff to think about last night. What in the hell was I thinking when I said I owed them a favor?! With my luck they'll ask Danny 'Phantom' to track down and save Danny 'Fenton'. Either that or Dad'll ask me to steal the fudge from Mom's safe… _He chuckled at the thought.

Then he grew somber and considered the underlying effects of the night's actions. _They know more now, at least in that they know that I'm different from other ghosts. And if I know my parents at all, I know that they're tenacious. They'll want to know what's so different about me and that'll lead them to me being half-ghost… which will make them to wonder who my human-half is. And I told them exactly where to go to find dirt on me. Letting them know that I'm not quite welcome in the Ghost Zone was just plain stupid. _

After a few more moments of self-berating thought and washing, Danny exited the shower. Dressing himself in clothes eerily like what he wore yesterday minus the dirtiness, he went downstairs to the kitchen to help himself to a rarity in his life: breakfast. Mom and Jazz were already seated, the first with a steaming mug of coffee that he was envious of and the other absentmindedly nibbling on a plain bagel while reading a psychology book. They looked up, Mom with a smile and Jazz with a frown. It was the natural order of the house that the women were early-risers whilst the men slept till ten o'clock on a good day. Danny being awake at six was a bit like watching Dash Baxter willingly study. It never happened, until today that is.

"Danny, what are you doing up?" Jazz's voice was tentative, as if a single misplaced word would send him flying.

Danny replied gruffly, "Had that nightmare again and couldn't go back to sleep." Jazz nodded, and after watching him like an interesting and new type of crazy person, she went back to her book. Then she looked up again as he had started foraging for cereal. A look had crossed her face. "Which nightmare again?"

He looked at her skeptically. "You didn't hear me screaming my head off?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, _that _nightmare."

He just glared. "So, you _didn't_ hear me?"

Jazz shook her head.

"I swear, you people are _deaf_." Danny remarked with an eye-roll, and then continued his search for non-ghostly food.

Having eaten and with thirty minutes until the bus came, Danny attempted to cobble together his homework. It was messy, wrong, and somehow, he didn't know how, it had gotten a glob of ectoplasm on it. He'd get a –D at the very most, if Mr. Lancer was feeling charitable, but a crappy homework assignment was better than none.

He headed out the door just in time to get on board the bus. The driver demanded to see his bus pass and actually called up the school to confirm that he was listed, as Danny had only ridden the bus the first week of school before the accident. He sat down next to Tucker, who looked up from his PDA and stared at him like was Elvis reincarnated.

"Danny?" Tucker said, voice filled with disbelief, "Is… is that you?"

Danny smiled a little. "The one and only."

"You're actually up? How? I thought it was physically impossible for you to be awake by seven."

"Nightmare. Anyways, I have something to tell you, and Sam when we see her-"

"Oh, yeah that second round with Skulker! How'd it got?"

He winced. "Alright. He's in the Thermos. Just… don't pat me on my right shoulder. I don't know what it was but he's got a new weapon that hurts bad and the cut won't heal. Anyways, that's not what I had to tell you…"

By the time Danny had stopped explaining the whole capture-release drama of last night, they had arrived at school and met up with Sam which meant he had to start all over. He'd only gotten halfway through _that_ one (to the part with Danny stuck in the Thermos) when the bell rang. Sam was looking reasonably upset so Tucker promised to text her the rest in-class.

Three periods later, Danny got a text. After a few moments of translating, it came out to mean:

**What were you thinking?!**

Danny grimaced. _Great. Just what I need: A pissed-off Sam. _He texted back.

**What part are you upset about?**

**You let yourself get cornered for one!**

**I didn't **_**let **_**myself get cornered.**

**You should of ducked out when your parents found you!**

**I was tired, Sam. Tired people don't think straight.**

**You shouldn't have been out when you hadn't had sleep all day!**

Now Danny was starting to get annoyed. **Who else was going to help-**

Mr. Tomas, his fourth period science teacher, cleared his throat. "Mr. Fenton, if I see your cell phone out in my class again I will have to confiscate it."

Danny looked up to see the teacher and his entire class staring at him. Blushing like crazy, he nodded and put the cell phone away. _Sam'll just have to wait to chew me out._

When the bell rang, Danny ran out like Spectra having a bad hair day was behind him. It was lunch next and although he would like to eat, this was also Dash's favorite time to pound him. He'd managed to avoid him in the morning, but Danny had this weird little feeling-

"Fenturd!"

_Crap._

Random kids who had been on their way to lunch suddenly stopped and gathered around him, clogging the hallway. Sam and Tucker were among him, Sam with an annoyed look and Tucker with an apologetic smile. Danny glared at them, mouthing _Help me _but neither moved. Before he could even say anything, he found himself suspended mid-air by his collar. And, unsurprisingly, he was face-to-face with Dash Baxter, star quarterback and self-appointed torturer of Danny Fenton.

"We had a test in History today, Fentoad. And guess what I got?"

"An A?" Danny said nervously.

"Wrong!" He was thrust harshly against the lockers. A slightly wet feeling spread down his shoulder. "I got an F. And I'm blam-"Dash paused, and his grip loosened on his shirt. "Are-are you _bleeding_?"

Danny looked him right in the eyes, willing himself to look nonchalant. "No."

After a moment, Dash smiled. "Good. I don't wanna mark you up, that could get me in trouble. Now, what do you want to do today? Stuff you in your locker? String you up on the flagpole? I'm feeling generous today, Dan, so make your pick."

Danny stiffened. "What did you just call me?" _He did _not_ just call me that. He did not call me by _his_ name. _Memories flashed trough his head faster than the speed of light, and Danny got tenser with each one. Especially one in particular:

"_The name's Dan. Dan Phantom. I'm the one who destroys everything."_

Had Danny been listening, he would have heard a Tucker-like voice groan. "Oh _shit_."

**Dash**

A large, burly fourteen-year-old with blonde hair and dark blue-grey eyes was sitting in a desk in a classroom. But rather than pay attention to the teacher who was droning on about some old people and wars, Dash Baxter was staring at the paper he'd just been given back. It had a big, glossy, red **F** on it.

_I can't believe this! Another F? Dad's gonna kill me…_

Dash was not having a good day. He was tardy for class, got a stain on his letterman jacket, Paulina dumped him over the phone last night, and now he had an F on his History test.

_Why does my life suck? It shouldn't suck! This is supposed to be the best four years of my life!_

Dash was first out the door when the bell rang. Feeling a serious urge to wail on somebody, he scanned the room for the raven-haired twerp that was his personal punching bag. He was unsuccessful and was about to give up until he saw Danny Fenton running towards the cafeteria. Grinning, Dash yelled, "Fenturd!"

Said geek stopped in his tracks. All the kids around them gathered in a circle and closed them in. Fenton looked to his nerdy friends, the Goth chick and the PDA-bearing freak, but they didn't help. Dash grabbed the little oddball by his collar and lifted him up in the air. "We had a test in History today, Fentoad. And guess what I got?"

Fenton just blinked at his removal from the floor and said nervously, "An A?"

"Wrong!" Dash shoved him into the lockers. "I got an F. And I'm blam-" He paused. His eyes glanced over to the freak's shoulder, which was starting bleed. "Are-are you _bleeding_?" _Crap. If he starts bleeding, I'll get in trouble._

But Fenton just looked at him. "No." Dash could tell he was lying, but he could also see that the weirdo didn't care.

_I can't push him to far today. I have to be careful. _He plastered a grin on his face. "Good. I don't wanna mark you up, that could get me in trouble. Now, what do you want to do today? Stuff you in your locker? String you up on the flagpole? I'm feeling generous today, Dan, so make your pick."

Dash was careful. He even made sure not to call him a name. But he knew he must of done something wrong, because Danny tensed. His voice was cold, almost ice-like, and so were his eyes. "What did you just call me?"

Dash heard, somewhere in the crowd, the Foley twerp say: "Oh _shit_."

Not knowing what else to do, he answered "I called you Dan. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Yes. There. Is."

Before Dash could move or do anything, he found himself with his back against the wall and Danny's hand was pinning him down by the shoulder. It didn't take him long to concur with the tech-geek. 'Oh shit' was a good way of describing the situation. The Danny that had him pinned was not the Danny he knew. He was surprisingly strong, strong enough that Dash knew he'd have bruises tomorrow.. His face was contorted in rage, and his eyes were murderously green. _Wait, green? Fenton's eyes aren't green…_

His captor's icy vice interrupted his thoughts. "You will not call me that even again, got it Dash? Or do I need to pound it into your thick skull?"

Dash just nodded. This Danny couldn't be argued with, couldn't be disagreed with. Because this Danny was strong, and scary, and had green eyes even though his were supposed to be blue.

This Danny could and probably _would_ crush his windpipe without a second thought.

Just as the morbid thought of dying at Fenton's hands passed through his brain, he was released. The frighteningly green eyes became blue again. Fenton turned and walked away, the crowd giving him a wide berth.

Dash just sank to the ground, rubbing his already-sore shoulder.

_What in the hell just happened?_


	4. Beginning of an Uncomfortable Situation

**Chapter Four: Beginning of an Uncomfortable Situation**

**Danny**

In a classroom full of drowsing, daydreaming, gum-chewing, chatting and in general uncaring kids ignoring the teacher, a black haired, blue-eyed teen in a red-n-white tee-shirt and jeans was slumped over a desk, slightly drooling. He appeared peaceful while his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, busily lectured about William Shakespeare's life, but the boy was especially gifted in the area of not tossing and turning in class. A subtle twitch of his right cheek and index finger betrayed him. Inside the slumbering teenager's mind, all was not peaceful.

_Blue-grey eyes wide with fear. Blood vessels rupturing under his hand._

"_I called you Dan. Is there a problem with that?"_

_The desire to choke Dash Baxter…_

"Some scholars believe that Hamnet's death was what inspired Shakespeare to write 'Hamlet', and- _House of the Seven Gables_, Mr. Fenton. If you can't stay awake for even _one_ of my classes, then you might as well not come at all!"

Mr. Lancer, who had been pacing up and down the rows of his classroom, came to a stop at Danny Fenton's desk. The pale student in question woke from his daydream-nightmare and lifted his head, wiping away the saliva from his mouth.

_Why am I so tired? Maybe because I skipped out on lunch…_

He looked up to see a rather upset, slightly overweight and balding man wearing a blue shirt and tie with plaid pants who was eyeing him with beady green eyes. This man was known as Edward Lancer. The upset Lancer stared at him, expectant. "Well? No excuses this time, Daniel?"

Danny just looked up at his teacher blankly. "No, sir."

"Thirty minute detention after school today, Mr. Fenton."

Danny just nodded his head. Lancer turned to continue the lesson, but then turned back to sniff the air.

"Why do you smell like bleach, Mr. Fenton?"

Danny cringed. _Well, I couldn't come to class with a bloodstain on my shoulder, could I? _"I'm not sure, sir."

Mr. Lancer eyed him suspiciously. _Probably thinks I've been getting high on bleach fumes. _After an uncomfortable moment, Lancer continued with his lesson. "Some of Shakespeare's later sonnets mention a 'Dark Lady' and a 'Young Man', speaking of them in a frustrated tone. The way he writes about the young man states clearly that Shakespeare was infatuated with him, suggesting he may have been bisexual…"

Danny paid zero attention to his teacher. The memories the daydream had drug up were nettling at him. He'd managed to keep himself busy, bleaching his shirt, hiding in the bathroom, trashing the Box Ghost, all to not think about what he'd almost done.

_What I could have, would have, and defiantly wanted to do._

For a few seconds there, Danny wanted to kill Dash Baxter.

And that fact terrified him.

The nettling doubt became a full-fledged voice. 'You're becoming more like him everyday.'

_No._

'It's happening right in front of you. You see it clear as day, and yet you deny it. Denial is the first step of the grieving process…'

_I am not grieving! No one's died!_

'Oh, but they will soon,' the infernal voice purred. 'Your mother. Your father. Your sister. Your friends. Your teacher…'

_Shut up!_

'…Face it Daniel. You are going to destroy everything you know and love. Even yourself.'

_SHUT UP!!_

Danny put his head down and put his arms over his head, as if they could shield him from the voice. Suddenly his cell, which was in his pocket, vibrated silently. He pulled the thing out under his desk and opened it, grateful for any distraction.

**You ok?**

He looked over at Tucker and Sam, who were casting him anxious glances. He typed back.

**Fine. Just tired.**

Tucker texted back.

**You don't look fine, dude.**

Danny was not eager to talk about that just then. **Leave it, Tuck.**

**No, I won't. Something's bothering you.**

Frustrated, Danny began to type violently. **Well maybe we can start with me almost killing-**

"Mr. Fenton!"_ Holy crap! _Danny jumped and nearly fell out of his chair. Mr. Lancer was standing right behind him. "Texting class, are we? Give the phone to me."

"Umm… I ah… well…y-you see…" He stuttered. _God, what is with me and stuttering lately? Next thing I know I'm gonna have an appointment with the speech therapist!_

Lancer held out his hand. "Phone, Daniel." Danny handed it over meekly. "You'll get it back later. And I'm adding another thirty minutes to your detention."

Danny knew better than to argue. Backtalk would only make it worse. Instead he simply nodded and went back to staring at his blank paper. Mr. Lancer sighed and restarted the lecture, leaving Danny to the voice.

'You're gonna kill them all.'

_No. I promised._

'You really believe a little promise like that's gonna do anything?'

_Yes. _

But even as he though it, every recess and corner of his mind said different.

**Edward**

_Storm Thief, how am I supposed to teach with people texting in my class?_

Edward Lancer was annoyed. The onyx-haired, blue-eyed teen that was the source of much of his distress the past year was breaking yet another rule.

_Daniel Fenton, what am I going to do with you?_

"Mr. Fenton! Texting class, are we? Give the phone to me." Edward watched as Daniel jump a full three inches in the air, nearly falling off his chair. He then proceeded to stutter incoherently. "Umm… I ah… well…y-you see…"

Very irritated now, Edward held out his hand. "Phone, Daniel. You'll get it back later. And I'm adding another thirty minutes to your detention." The boy gave the phone up without argument and merely nodded, staring at his blank notepaper. He sighed. Sometimes he really wished Danny would fight. Anything was better than this apathy. It was like nothing mattered to him, at least anything Edward knew about.

_But there's nothing I can do about this. I can't motivate him unless I know what does motivate him._

Silently shaking his head, Edward continued his lesson. The bell rang thirty minutes later. Sitting at his desk to prepare for sixth period, he remembered Daniel's phone, which he had put in his pocket. He pulled it out, looking it over. It was a fairly beat-up one. The leather case was almost torn to shreds. And the corner seemed to have… _A scorch mark?_

Shaking his head at the neglect some teens exhibited towards their personal belongings, Edward flipped it open. The wallpaper was a rather beautiful picture of Saturn, a small trademark in the corner proclaiming that it was taken by the Hubble Telescope. _Huh. He did mention being interested in becoming an astronaut. _

Contrary to popular belief, Edward _did_ have a cell phone. He just didn't use it often and gave few people his number. With a decent understanding of how to work the phone's controls, he was able to look at recent outgoing and ingoing texts. What he found puzzled him. Greatly.

**What were you thinking?! **The ID said it was Miss Manson.

**What part are you upset about? **That was Daniel.

**You let yourself get cornered for one! **_Cornered?_

**I didn't **_**let **_**myself get cornered. **

**You should of ducked out when your parents found you! **_Found him doing what?_

**I was tired, Sam. Tired people don't think straight. **

**You shouldn't have been out when you hadn't had sleep all day! **_He hadn't slept? All day? No wonder he looked tired. What has that boy been doing?_

**Who else was going to help- **_Help whom, is what I would like to know. Why did it cut off?_

The text's info said the next one was around two hours and fifteen minutes after the last one.**You ok? **That was Mr. Foley.

**Fine. Just tired. **_Why is he tired?_

**You don't look fine, dude. **_He didn't. Any good friend would be concerned._

**Leave it, Tuck. **_Why is he pushing them away?_

**No, I won't. Something's bothering you.**

**Well maybe we can start with me almost killing- **_Why does he have to cut off at the most inopportune moments?! Kill whom? _

"What in the name of Robert Frost has he been doing?" Edward muttered aloud. Then he looked up.

His entire sixth period was staring at him.

He quickly stuffed the cell into a drawer in his desk and stood up. "Ok, class. First I'll take roll call, then…"

**Later**

**Edward**

_Beverly Cleary, those kids are animals!_

After a long day of attempting to squeeze information into the tiny and unwilling brains of teenagers, Edward Lancer was stuck with cleaning up after them. It was a task that he loathed, abhorred, and yet he had to do it. Every day. Walking around, garbage bag in hand, he picked up the day's refuse. Gum, bottles, gum, wrappers, _gum_. There was gum everywhere! Under the desks, under the chairs, on the _floor_.

_Why did I become a teacher again? _

Edward's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Danny, who was set with the expression of someone who was about to endue torture for an hour. "Mr. Fenton, good, you came. Come help me clean this place up." It was the usual thing for detentions. The detainee helps him clean up, and then the rest of the time is spent on homework, reading, or staring off into space.

Daniel said nothing, just grabbed the extra bag and set to work. He knew the drill. Work was silent and slow, but it was complete in fifteen minutes. Edward took the garbage bags out, and then sat at his desk and pulled out a teen drama he'd gotten from the library. It was a regular sob story, girl has a hard life, gets in trouble, becomes involved in crime and shady stuff, gets caught, gets help. The end. Normally he would use stuff like this for fire kindling, but he'd accidentally left the book he was currently in the middle of at home, forcing him to get outside material. And the library only stocked teen-related books.

But as he read the would-be fire starter, he noticed a few things, or specifically, one thing: The teacher was always the clueless one. Even when the main character practically screamed druggie, or when they wrote a suicide note for an assignment, the teacher was clueless. It was always the parent or a clean friend who found out and helped, never the teacher.

_Why? Is it because we're not observant enough? Not caring enough? I'm trying as hard as I can with Daniel, but I'm still clueless. What am I missing?_

An audible gasp came from the other side of the room, and then a raised hand. Edward looked up from the book at Daniel, who had a slightly panicked look on his face. He raised an eyebrow. "This isn't class, Fenton. You don't need to raise your hand." The hand went down. "What is it?"

The boy's ice blue eyes glanced askance at the door, the window, the ventilation system. _What is he looking for? _"Um, Mr. Lancer, sir, can I go to the bathroom?"

Edward put his book down and crossed his arms. "Not unescorted. You're in detention."

Danny opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it.

He stood up. "Is it serious?"

The boy nodded.

Edward sighed and grabbed his charge by his right shoulder. Daniel winced, but said nothing. Noticing this, he let go of the shoulder, grabbed his elbow, and started off to the bathroom. The pale, thin teen he dragged along with him said nothing. He seemed intent on looking everywhere except his teacher: the walls, the ceiling, the lockers as they passed by. The air ducts again. _Is he looking for an escape route? Or looking for someone coming _in_?_

Seeing as they had a bit of time between them and the restrooms, Edward pondered his student's strange behavior. _He is late to class often and utterly exhausted, falls asleep, doesn't do homework, asks to leave the classroom often and comes back out of breath and bruised or not at all, jumpy, flinched when I grabbed his shoulder, vanishes out of thin air when a ghost attacks, and he mentioned helping and killing in his texts… _

_What in the name of _Pern_ am I missing?!_

When they reached the bathroom, Daniel pulled himself from his teacher's grasp. Without a backwards glance, he ran through the door with the little white male symbol inside a blue circle. Edward thought he heard something, two muffled words and a weird, indescribable sound, but then everything was silent.

**Iyrsiiea**

In a very small, cramped, and cluttered bedroom in a small, slummy town, a girl with dark brown hair, slightly pale skin, and brown-green eyes was sitting on the edge of her favorite chair, typing away on a keyboard while occasionally sparing a glance for the computer screen to check her spelling was right. She was wearing a pink tank top and blue sweats for pajamas, seeing as it was twelve o'seven at night. Smiling faintly to herself, she reclined in the chair, enjoying the fact it reclined with her. She liked to make it go back and forth, as the motion soothed her. She pushed her bronze colored glasses up with her left index finger, then suddenly sneezed. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

_Goddess, I forgot how miserable being sick makes you feel. _

Rereading over her work, she realized how good of an idea it was to change the original version. It had gotten too lengthy, almost eleven pages, and this way things would be broken up nicely. Besides, she'd kinda screwed up the dialog.

She allowed herself a small, malicious chuckle at the thought of her diabolical plan she had in store.

_Project 'Make Danny's life miserable' is a-go! Let's see him squirm when he- oh, wait, I'm recording my thoughts and typing them up at the end of the chapter, I can't reveal the plot now!_

Sighing in irritation, she clicked on the 'reviews: 21'. Another smile, this one much nicer and more sincere, spread across her face.

_Oh wow. These people are so complementary! _Glancing at one in particular, she giggled. _Garnet Sky spoke too soon. _Grinning some more, she looked up at Hyperpegasi's review and snorted. _I sure as hell wouldn't want to piss off Danny, but that was the point! As you people, whom I know are reading this, will have guessed, I hate Dash and like to cause him pain. _The malicious smile was back. When she looked up some more, however, it vanished. _You are right to wonder, DP-shrine-in-closet-girl. But... that little detail's time will come much later. Maybe. Hopefully._

Exiting out of the review menu, she streched her arms up and yawned. It was twelve thirty-five, and even though she was sick, her mother was making her go to school tomorrow, which meant it was time for sleep. She saved everything, turned on i-Tunes, and curled up in her blue comforter.

_Bye Bye! I'll try to spin off another chapter by Sunday!_


	5. Turning Out to be an Uncomfortable Day

**Chapter Five: Turning Out to Be an Uncomfortable Day**

**Danny**

_I can spend five minutes on this ghost at the most; maybe less if Lancer gets suspicious. _

A raven-haired, pale teenager with ice blue eyes and a worried expression dashed into a previously vacant bathroom, leaving his English teacher outside to contemplate his odd behavior. As soon as the older male's line of sight was broken, Daniel Fenton whispered "Goin' Ghost!" summoning a pair of silver rings around his waist.

The rings moved apart, and in the place of a pair of baggy jeans and white tee-shirt, there was a black hazmat suit with white gloves, white boots, a white belt and collar, and on his chest was a white _**D**_. The black hair became snow white, the blue eyes turned ectoplasmic green, and the transformation was complete.

Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom.

_I'm gonna be cutting this close…_

He became intangible and flew through the ceiling up to the rooftop of the school, scanning the sky for the ghost that had triggered his ghost sense. But when he did locate the spectral annoyance, he wished he hadn't.

"There you are, whelp! I've been waiting for you."

An all-too familiar metal face came into view. What with the flaming green hair, burning green eyes, metal body, and vast array of weaponry attached to said body, the ghost was instantly recognizable. Skulker, the supposed 'Ghost Zone's greatest hunter' was back to try and skin him. Again.

_Wonderful._

He was hovering over the football field with his jetpack and indeed seemed to have been waiting for him. This annoyed Danny slightly, though he wasn't quite sure why. "Well, maybe if you had called for an appointment first, this would have been a whole lot faster! Get the heck out of here, Skulker!"

The mechanized mouth grinned maliciously. "No can do, ghost child. I will have your pelt if it's the last thing I do!"

"Will you just give it up already?!" Danny didn't wait for an answer to his rhetorical question, and fired an ecto beam at Skulker, who dodged just in time. He fired another and another, until one clipped the left wing and sent Skulker spinning in midair. Then, in a feat of marksmanship, he shot the panel on his right shoulder which held Skulker's main gun, fusing it closed. The mechanical ghost regained control of himself and attempted to return fire on Danny, only to realize the ghost boy had been one step ahead.

"Drat! And I just got that gun upgraded too!"

Foiled, Skulker launched himself at the halfa. Danny quickly dodged aside and kicked Skulker's metal back. The ghost was thrown downwards, fazing through the roof of the school. Hot on his heels, Phantom chased after him, whipping out the Fenton Thermos. A cursory glance at his watch, he realized that he'd already used three of his allotted five minutes.

_Gotta hurry it up!_

When he had relocated Skulker, he found himself back where he started, in the bathroom. Trying not to make a lot of noise so the teacher who was probably outside wouldn't become suspicious, Danny pointed the thermos at Skulker's recovering form. But before the thermos could do its job, Skulker pushed a button on his wrist.

And Skulker pushing a button on his wrist usually resulted in annoyance or pain. In this case, it was annoyance.

Several things happened at once. Skulker got up. The door opened to reveal a concerned Mr. Lancer, drawn in by the sound of the thermos charging. The purpose of the button Skulker pushed showed itself to be a net-deployer.

As Skulker was in the middle of the room, Danny was between the door and Skulker, and as such Lancer was right behind him. Later, Danny would lament this fact.

The net came flying at Danny. He turned intangible as a reflex, but to his increasing unhappiness he did not faze through. The kinetic force exerted on the net in order to propel it at an incredible speed combined with the little weights attached to it created a powerful force to throw Danny's thin form backward into Mr. Lancer's much more heavyset body. The net stopped, seeing as the force needed to toss a skinny fourteen-year-old was not enough to knock a much larger forty-year-old down.

The net had caught them both.

An evil smirk came to the metallic specter's face. "I had hoped that would work!"

Danny, who was startled by the number of odd things happening in a matter of seconds, asked stupidly, "I can't pass though?"

Skulker seemed enthusiastic at the chance to brag about his newest invention. "It's a specially designed net that is completely impossible to escape from! No ghost can faze through it, no human can either when they're in the Ghost Zone!"

This had Danny truly worried. _If turning human won't help, and I can't intangibly go though, then I can't get out! _

The two ghosts in the room were halted midthought when the only other sentient being in the room spoke.

"What in the name of Stephenie Meyer is going on?! Why am I in a net?! More importantly, why am I in a net with Danny Phantom?!"

Danny sheepishly looked over his shoulder to see his English teacher looking quite flustered. He gave an apologetic look. "Sorry." He whispered.

_I DO have the worst luck in both the human world and the Ghost zone!_

**Irysiiea**

A pale girl in a striped button-up shirt and jeans was typing furiously on a keyboard. She looked frantic, checking over mistakes, cursing, and occasionally gulping down some blue liquid called 'POWERade'. The song _Time of Dying_ by Three Days Grace was playing on the iTunes program.

_Crap! I can't believe I forgot about all this! I am sooooooo sorry…I will try to continue, but I can't promise!_


	6. And a Very Ucomfortable Place

**Chapter Six: Between a Rock and a Very Uncomfortable Place**

**Iyrsiiea**

In a heavily wooded and high up town, in a small but spacious apartment on a couch in a neat living room a girl is sitting in her pajamas, again. There is a cat now, a grey-brown tabby with pretty amber eyes and a kink in her tail. The cat sits behind her owner's laptop and sleeps. Her owner is typing away at the keyboard at a leisurely pace.

_Wow, it's been an entire year?! Holy crap I'm sorry._

_Well, what I've come back with isn't much, just a page of Mr. Lancer being confused. I will endeavor to remember this fic and not wait another year to write again._

_Sooo sorry… didn't mean to leave you guys hangin' if I even have fans anymore, lol._

**Edward**

_I am… VERY confused._

Edward Lancer, English major, occasional writer, sometimes poet, and jaded high school English teacher, was at a loss for words.

One moment he was standing outside the boy's bathroom, getting slightly concerned. The next, he was in a shiny green net with the infamous Danny Phantom.

_Someone please explain!_

The ghost boy was practically right on top of him, and although Edward knew nothing of what was going on, he still noted several things. For one, the ghost was _cold_. Not freezing, but still fairly chilly. He was also surprisingly muscular. Not buff, rather he was lean and catlike. And despite the fact his face was practically an inch away from the snowy white mop of hair in front of him, he couldn't smell anything. No sweat, no shampoo, nothing.

The English teacher was startled from his observations by the ghost boy speaking.

"Umm… I don't suppose I could convince you to let us go?"

The large, oddly metal ghost just smirked. "Nope."

"Well, at least let _him _go," the Phantom kid heckled, gesturing with his head behind him at Edward, "You've got me, you don't need him!"

The other ghost appraised him for a moment. "Hmm, well I could use him as bait… or as a test subject."

The other occupant of the net scoffed. "Oh come on, who'd want to eat him! And he's no use as a test subject; he's so out of shape!"

Even though Edward was completely out of his element, he had to speak up at that. "Hey, I'm not out of shape! I'll have you know I work out twice a week!"

The white-pelted head in front of him turned back to look at him, and Edward felt something akin to shock go down his spine at those famed neon green eyes not an inch from him. He just barely heard the ghost whisper: "Be quiet, I'm trying to save you!"

He shut up.


End file.
